


Clever

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How clever,” people tell her, “to have chained a werewolf to you.”</p><p>Braeden does not correct them.</p><p>She lets them believe she’s harnessed some great power, because it’s easier for the both of them. Other supernatural creatures are reluctant to attack someone that has not only proved their strength countless times before, but now has a werewolf of their own bound to them, willing to risk his very life for them. And it’s easier for Derek, to let them all continue to believe that he has some sort of power left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clever

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this is, i just wrote a thing while some dude on the street corner preached about jesus and sins and covering up nudity or something

“How clever,” people tell her, “to have chained a werewolf to you.”

Braeden does not correct them.

She lets them believe she’s harnessed some great power, because it’s easier for the both of them. Other supernatural creatures are reluctant to attack someone that has not only proved their strength countless times before, but now has a werewolf of their own bound to them, willing to risk his very life for them. And it’s easier for Derek, to let them all continue to believe that he has some sort of power left.

The men that she had met while passing through town the other day had nodded at her with respect.

“I should get a werewolf of my own,” one of them had said, eyes glinting while he bared his teeth in the mockery of a smile.

Braeden did not tell him that, currently, Derek was back in Beacon Hills, curled up under his blankets while he sniffled pathetically and tried to get over the first cold he’s ever had in his entire life.

She did not tell him that just last week, she had to drag him to the doctor and hold his hand tight while they gave him shots that he had never needed before.

Nor did she tell him that Derek is afraid of needles and guns. That he does not trust the dark, and cannot fall asleep sometimes because without his supernatural hearing he is now completely tuned in to the panicked beating of his own heart and he tells her that is more frightening than any intruder could be.

Instead, she laughed, letting a small smirk play at the corners of her mouth. “As if any of them would be desperate enough to sleep with you,” she said, because these were men that she had known since she was a child, and her mother had led her down these streets, whispering secrets into her ear.

These were men that would not kill her for the jab, but instead looked between each other before breaking out into raucous laughter.

“You’re so much like your mother,” the second one had said. “She always knew how to make us laugh.”

And Braeden guesses that’s true enough.

She is like her mother.

Except she does not think that her mother had ever come home to a werewolf standing in her kitchen, nose wrinkled while he stood over blackened cookies.

“I didn’t know they were burning,” he tells her, looking over at where she stands in the doorway with her gear still heavy on her shoulder. “I can usually smell when they’re ready.”

“At least you used the oven mitt to take them out this time,” Braeden says, and Derek’s tired expression turns a little happier when he laughs at that, looking down at his left hand where the skin between his thumb and point finger has scarred over.

“Small miracles,” he mutters, mostly to himself, before fully taking in her disheveled appearance. “Are you okay? Did it go well?”

She lets her bags drop by the door and walks over to him, lets him wrap her up in his arms while he nuzzles at her neck, because even if he doesn’t have wolf senses, he still has those instincts deep down inside.

“You’re still sick,” Braeden says when she steps back from his embrace, lifting one hand to his forehead.

“I haven’t puked.”

“You can be sick without puking,” Braeden tells him, rolling her eyes a little, because some things are just common sense. “Go,” she adds, pointing towards their room. “I’ll come after you in a minute. And don’t think you’re getting out of taking your medicine,” she adds to his back and she can hear him grumble something under his breath, because as much of a man he claims he is, Derek still has all the petulance of a small child.

“How clever,” people say. “To have such a weapon at your control.”

Braeden does not pay attention to these people.

Instead, she smiles at the memory of her mother’s gentle touch and soft voice.

“You were always brilliant, baby,” she would say. “And I’m so proud of you, for finding someone to share that brilliance with.”

**Author's Note:**

> ok if you're here cause you read it, thanks for reading
> 
> feel free to visit me on tumblr at sourskitles


End file.
